Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Sweet Lovers Love the Spring

Spring must be on the way. A pair of them tried to nest in our downpipe last year.

Pen left for London this morning and I was out on the door to door preaching work with Audrey - cold but sunny - croci everywhere - very little interest - a bit cold to keep people at their doors talking anyway. Still at least I am back to work.

Col was off at Wisley, drinking in the butterflies. There will be some wonderful photos on his blog soon. He bought me back a present from the bookshop there. An anthology by Owen Sheers called "A Poet's Guide to Britain".

I have already found an old favourite from my Uni days - Wulf and Eadwacer. We don't know who wrote it. It is a voice of longing from the past - maybe from a spring many many hundreds of years ago.

It begins:

"The men of my tribe would treat him as game:
if he comes to the camp they will kill him outright...

Wulf is on one island, I on another.
Mine is a fastness: the fens girdle it
and it is defended by the fiercest men.
If he comes to the camp they will kill him for sure...